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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25420756">Kaleidoscope</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaychalamet/pseuds/gaychalamet'>gaychalamet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Actor RPF, Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, it's basically just pure fluff, maybe a little angst i guess, smoking (weed and cigarettes) is mentioned briefly, there's literally nothing else. it's just armie being soft for timmy, this is literally just wholesome charmie throughout their lives</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:07:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,489</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25420756</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaychalamet/pseuds/gaychalamet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"As if all this had been part of me all of my life and I’d misplaced it and he had helped me find it. The dream had been right—this was like coming home, like asking, Where have I been all my life? which was another way of asking, Where were you in my childhood?"</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Remember when Armie said that he had started to see Timothée in memories from before he knew him? Yeah, why does no one talk about that more?</p><p>Or, 1.4k+ words of me putting context to that Armie quote that has been on my mind literally constantly since I remembered it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Kaleidoscope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>here's me finally finishing the pure charmie one shot that i started in june at two am because i don't know what else to do with my life while i procrastinate on everything else i actually have to do. enjoy!</p><p>disclaimer: i think it was another fic on here from a few weeks back that i came across that reminded me of the quote, so if anyone has any idea, let me know, and i’ll credit inspiration x<br/>-toni x</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p>
“I’ve spent so much time with Timmy, when I go back and think about all my memories from childhood, for some reason, he’s also there.”
</p>
  <p>
<i> It feels like I’ve known him my entire life – in every moment I look back on, at every time in my life. He was there, even when it wasn’t possible. It was a kaleidoscope of the past, where every reflecting image held him in it. As if he’d been there all long, and I had only just missed him before.</i>
</p>
  <p>
࿐,･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆,࿐
</p>
</div><p>Armie didn’t understand why. Didn’t understand how it was possible. At first, he thought, it was just a fluke, a mind trick. But then, if it was, his mind was in it for the long haul. It was everything now – small moments, large events – even when it didn’t make sense. It was as though space had mended time, and now there he was. Timothée Chalamet, in everything, everyday.</p><p>He had memories of being at school with him, on the island. It wasn’t possible – realistically, Timothée would have only been born – but they were. Moments, vivid images of the pair of them; bare feet on the cold tiles of their homes, riding bikes around Georgetown, swimming in the ocean off of West Bay. Failing to climb palm trees, finding amusement in the tourists that came and went, running along the docks and begging their parents to take them out onto the boats whenever they had a moment to spare.  He could remember the games he and his friends used to play, jumping over each other in the ocean. Timothée and himself, limbs flailing amongst each other, breath’s heavy from laughing. Childish grins plastered on their faces, warm skin and cold water.</p><p>Timothée was with him in high school, the Baptist school in Southern California that felt foreign and restrictive after living in the Caribbean. Riding to and from school together, bickering with Viktor over who got shotgun in Armie’s car, getting high in the parking lot of Blockbuster. Hanging out in the hallways between periods, passing stupid notes in class, sneaking off campus to go to the shitty Subway in the next block over during their lunch break. Best friends in the way teenage boys were; hanging around skateparks and wiping out on every attempt they made at a new trick, playing video games throughout weekends, discussing every girl they thought they had fallen in and out love with, and every other friend that came and went. </p><p>Graduation – light blue gowns and square caps and golden cords, plastic chairs and a platform stage and the blistering heat of LA in June, diplomas that felt like a victory to even hold. The parties, after, laughing with one another in city traffic over <i>The Killers</i> and <i>OutKast</i>, caring about these moments far more than the others spent in an acquaintances’ yards beating each other out in cornhole games, stealing sips from red solo cups they weren’t supposed to have. Though they cared about those moments too, because they were together. </p><p>It continued. Timmy was there, as Armie started acting – as they both did. Struggling through failed auditions, assuring each other that the next one would be better, the next one would be it. When they started booking things finally, they’d celebrate together, too – eating at 24/7 diners together in the middle of the night, stacks of waffles and omelettes and hot chocolate. Armie would bring him to the UCLA parties that friends would invite them too, beer pong and frat guys passed out on lawns and girls puking in bushes as the pair turned down various conspicuous bags of illicit substances. The first few golden years of Armie’s youth in LA, spent with Timmy. </p><p>He was there when Armie met Elizabeth, a member of the group which hiked Runyon Canyon that day when Tyler brought her into his life. He remembers the look they shared as her boyfriend was introduced, the <i>can you get a load of this guy?</i> side eye wordless acknowledgement between two friends who knew exactly what the other was thinking. Timothée was only second to Armie himself in that moment of realizing what had walked into his life when they were introduced. He dealt with his pining vents, his attempts to win her over. When they finally did get together, it was Timmy who he fought with when he cautioned him on jumping into it too quickly. Timmy who he made up with, Timmy who he asked if he thought she’d like the ring, Timmy who helped him set up the proposal. </p><p>Timothée was one of his groomsmen. The matching striped tie, standing next to him at the altar, sneaking him a shot in the bathroom before he made his entrance into the reception. He remembered sharing a cigarette with him outside the back door to the venue of the rehearsal dinner – he remembered their conversation, he remembered how on top of the world he felt. Of course, it was because he was about to get married, but also it was because he knew that no matter what happened, he’d always have his Timmy to back him up and be there for him. If Armie asked him to, he’d drive the getaway car if he needed to flee the altar. It didn’t feel real, to look at his actual wedding photos and not see him there. Like it had all been one grand mistake the universe had made, the <i>mandela effect</i>, or something. </p><p>He was one of the first people he told when they found out Elizabeth was pregnant with Harper. Armie was shaking, both elated and terrified, but he remembered how happy Timmy was for him. The shocked <i>I’m an uncle? Seriously?</i> that made Armie laugh. He remembered the vote of confidence he had given him, assuring him over and over how great of a dad he was going to be. Every time throughout the pregnancy where Armie had started to overthink and spiral, he was always there for him; Timothée hugging him, telling him he was going to be a natural and grinning at him, making him repeat back to him that he was going to be a good dad. That everything was going to be okay. </p><p>Armie had called him from the hospital as Elizabeth rested after Harper had been born, after he had finally calmed down enough to begin to process what her birth meant. He remembered whispering in the hallway outside the hospital room, looking through the window at his sleeping wife and daughter as he quickly freaked out to his best friend on the other end of the phone, Timmy almost as excited and shocked as Armie was. He was one of the first people to come see the baby after they had been able to go home and accumulate to having Harper around, bringing arms full of gifts for the infant, immediately offering to babysit her whenever they needed the second he got to hold her. Armie remembered watching as his best friend fell in love with his child, and the way it made his heart swell. This was what true companionship was; through every stage of life and every moment he’d want to hold onto, he’d always have Timmy. </p><p>The idea that Timmy had just come into his life at twenty-nine, that he’d gone through nearly three decades of existence before him was preposterous to Armie now. No, he hadn’t just met the boy the day he walked into his rehearsal, hugging him as one would’ve greeted one his oldest, dearest friends. It wasn’t possible. It was hardly even conceivable. He had greeted him in such a way because that was exactly what he was – a familiar presence, a homecoming. The fact that he’d almost walked away from the opportunity made him ill. What would life be without Timmy?</p><p>Perhaps it was the same for Timothée. Perhaps when he looked back on his life now, he was like Armie, and while Armie had realized a part of Timmy had always been with him, maybe a part of Armie had been with Timmy. An Armie raised in the same Hell’s Kitchen apartment building as Timmy had been, maybe just down the hall. An Armie that grew up on New York pizza, and rode the subway to and from school everyday with him, and joined the Chalamet’s for a few weeks in the summer when they fled the city heat for their home in France. A section of his soul born in 1994, cultivated within Timmy’s subconscious until they had finally made their way to one another and finally, everything became clear. Everything made sense. They’d always been there, they’d just been so caught up in everything else that they’d missed each other before. Missed what was always right there in front of them. <i>This is what a soulmate truly was.</i></p><p>He’d never know – he’d never ask. Perhaps it was better off that way.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>mcnetsberm on tumblr! x</p></blockquote></div></div>
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